


The Price of Salvation

by DimeritiumDame



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Cussing, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Negan (Walking Dead) Being an Asshole, Post-Apocalypse, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DimeritiumDame/pseuds/DimeritiumDame
Summary: A traveler encounters the Saviors, launching her into a sequence of events that would alter her life permanently. Whether it is for better or worse has yet to be seen, but it appears to be the latter...





	1. Chapter 1

Night was gathering. The moans of the dead always became deafening at nighttime- the cold air stirring them from their lackadaisical daytime stumblings. Or perhaps they were just nocturnal hunters by nature. The corpses always seemed more menacing at night. In the dimming streets, desolate and littered with rubbish, the seconds ticked by slowly as a standoff played out.

It had been weeks since Minas had been in the company of another human being. Four weeks? Five? She dared not attempt to recall, knowing the only outcome would be a painful, familiar reverie of the trials she’d endured. She needed to push the thoughts away, as she always did, if she hoped to leave this encounter alive. Instead, her thoughts chided her pointlessly. “ _I knew that I should have returned to camp after looting that pharmacy_.” The risk had not been worth it; she had gathered absolutely nothing of use.

She swallowed heavily, attempting to moisten her throat, which had gone dry with terror that she hoped was not evident on her face. These people looked more than dangerous. “Back off. I have nothing of value,” she croaked. There were six of them, slowly flanking her as her head darted around hopelessly. Only one other woman was among them, she noticed. Lean and dark –with a glare that was darker, still– she stared her adversary down. Minas moved her sights from one target to another, mind racing to think of a way out of this. She came up short of ideas. All of the hostiles were armed to the teeth, their index fingers twitching with anticipation.

“ _Is this how it ends_?” _No_ , she concluded. One of the men, a broad-shouldered brute only a little more than a meter to Minas’ right, spoke up.

“That rifle looks awful valuable,” he mocked.

“Want to get a better look?” she asked in response, stiffening and raising her semi-auto to his head. She began to tremble perceptively.

“ _Steady…_ ”

A chilling laugh rang out loudly in the night. The girl turned her head slightly and strained her wild eyes to investigate, never taking her sights off the man who’d threatened her.

“ _Seven_ ,” she silently corrected herself. Minas should have been dismayed, but her predicament could hardly get much worse. She wanted to smirk at the ridiculousness of it all, but couldn’t bring herself to do so. A smile hadn’t graced her lips in a long, long time. This particularly tickled figure had been hanging back, evidently leaning against one of the group’s two vehicles. One was a large van, and the other a rusted white pickup. The sardonic noise of his laughter became gradually louder as he began to saunter forward. She could see now that he carried a blunt weapon of some sort. Other than that, he did not appear to be armed. Maybe a pistol tucked into the back of his pants. But that was good. She needed all of the advantages that she could get.

Abruptly, his laughter ceased. When was the last time she’d heard someone make that sort of noise? Before the shit hit the proverbial fan, surely. Before the world came to a screeching halt. The sound seemed impossibly foreign as it fell on her hot ears. “Well, well, WELL!” the man cried out. He accentuated the final word with a swing of his… baseball bat? “The mouth on this one.” he growled. A sudden gust sent chills down her spine, or was it his cutting tone that prompted the reaction? She looked around anxiously, instinctively scanning for walking corpses. Sure enough, a few had taken notice and were beginning to close in on them.

“Keep it down, you fool! You’re attracting them,” Minas hissed between clenched teeth. He was close now, as close as the rest of them were. The other strangers formed up around him in a tight phalanx. It seemed as though this group knew what they were doing. The bat-wielding man feigned dismay upon hearing the insult, cocking his head to the side and looking her dead in the eye. “Well that’s just fucking rude,” he said, drawing it out as he watched his prey’s face intently.

“Arat!” he said commandingly. Before Minas even had time to process the meaning of this, the lone woman of the group swung her silenced rifle around and planted a bullet in the head of the farther of the two walkers in sight. She required merely a fraction of a second to take aim. Her gun then returned to the other woman, just as quickly. Minas sucked in a quick breath, audibly.

“ _Okay. Maybe this is it_ ,” she thought to herself rather matter-of-factly. Minas considered herself an excellent shot, but in close proximity like this, outnumbered, a firefight was sure to end in her riddled with lead from all directions. She turned her head to the man who had barked the order, who was clearly their leader.

“Okay,” the cornered girl said, a defeated and angry look on her face. Reluctantly, she lowered her weapon, allowing it to swing freely on its strap. She raised her hands slowly to them, begrudgingly surrendering. The man glowered at her now, overly pleased with himself.

“There’s a smart girl,” he said, this time quietly. His dark eyes scanned her, first her expression and then lower. Minas straightened, determined to remain as dignified as possible in what could very well be her final moments.

“Excuse me,” he told her, and then whirled around violently, bringing the baseball bat down onto the remaining walker’s head, which had been closing in on him for some time. Minas recoiled at the suddenness of the vicious blow. It only took one. She noticed for the first time that his weapon was wrapped in cruel-looking barbed wire. The decimated remains of the rotted corpse’s brain were dangling horrifyingly from the metal as he turned back to resume the encounter that he was clearly reveling in. Minas couldn’t peel her eyes away from that bat, which swayed in the man’s hands as he closed the distance between them. She had accepted that she might be shot to death. A horrid outcome, yet a relatively merciful way out of this endless fucking nightmare that she lived every day. She had already said a silent apology to her brother, whom she was not even sure was still breathing, that she had never made it to Gaithersburg to try to find him and his family. But, this? To be beaten to death by a grinning thug wielding that monstrosity? Tears began to well in her eyes. She was sure it wouldn’t be quick.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan's decision regarding our heroine's fate is revealed.

Human beings are decidedly fragile beasts when stripped of their tools and of the walls (both literal and figurative) of society that they've constructed in order to comfort themselves. If one descends into the depths of the forest, for example, one begins to feel it: the existential sensation that you are nothing but a prey item- flesh and blood to be devoured to the advantage of another. The whole world was a wilderness now, and Minas’ felt that sensation all too keenly. This man had emerged from the darkness baring claw and tooth, a predator in every sense. 

When he finally stalked towards her, Negan reached down with his free hand and pulled Minas’ precious rifle from her grasp. The shoulder strap tousled the girl’s already disheveled hair as all hope was ripped from her. She was now completely defenseless save for the short blade at her hip, dulled from use, and a few throwing knives that she hardly even knew how to use. Her reddening eyes were still affixed on the bat- her fate sealed. It’s wielder handed her stolen weapon off to one of his goons (Minas didn’t bother to identify which) and then paused. She felt all of their eyes on her, but his alone seemed to bore holes into her very depths. It was like knowing that you were being stalked by a wildcat- unsure of the direction from whence it might pounce. 

Breaking the oppressive silence he asked, “Do you like her?” Slowly, her gaze rose to meet the man’s. She took in his features unwillingly. He towered over her nearly a foot, craning his neck down to look her in the eyes as he awaited a response. His eyes… they appeared black and menacing in the gloom. There was an obscene hint of amusement present in them as well. His dark hair was slicked back neatly, but his close-cropped beard showed signs of greying. His black leather jacket tensed against his body at every exceedingly drastic movement and gesture. The garb was bloodstained, and not just with the brown coagulated blood of the felled zombie. He was bending at the waist trying to meet her eye.

“What?” Minas did not realize that she had merely mouthed the word.

“Oh.” He rocked back on his heels after a moment, giving the girl some breathing room. “Silly me! We haven’t had introductions, yet!” he exclaimed excitedly. The group’s leader then raised his bat, bringing it between the two of them for Minas to inspect closely. It smelled utterly of death, but the sight was far worse. “This…” he began, relishing the words, “Is Lucille.” He was presenting her dramatically with his other hand.

“ _He’s stark-raving mad_ ,” Minas thought to herself, irrationally afraid that this man might read her thoughts.

“And I, my dear, am Negan,” he declared, tapping his chest softly with the anthropomorphic bat. His tone changed to authoritative as he addressed his crew. “And who are the rest of you fuckers?” he boomed. “Negan.” They all answered without hesitation. He turned back to Minas and smiled gaily- an expression that was an impeccable antithesis of her own. “So! _Do you like her_?” He punctuated the last few words, slowly articulated, with shakes of Lucille in her direction.

“No.” Her answer was curt.

She didn’t care for this sadistic game he was playing at. If it was going to be over, let it be over. He only chuckled darkly at her in response. “Well, you know us now. So are you going to continue to be _unfriendly_ , or are you going to tell me your name?” His agitation was clearly mounting. Minas took a deep breath to clear her racing thoughts while he spoke. “You were real fucking talkative a minute ago-!”

“The name’s Minas.” Her reply was reluctant but she didn’t care to listen to him taunt her anymore. Something told her that this Negan wouldn’t skip a beat, however. His expression was unreadable. “That a nickname, or-“ he started, idly. “If you’re going to kill me, then just get on with it.” Minas’ words surprised even herself. She asked herself in earnest if she actually did want to die, but was not able to determine the truth, as usual. It was that way since her last true friend on this Earth, this hellhole, was gunned down. Negan pretended to be abashed, resting a gloved hand on his chest. The act fed her fury. “Is that what you thought?” he gasped, his voice sickeningly saccharine.

One of the men chortled. Negan turned and glared at him, all trace of amusement suddenly absent from his expression. The other man no longer thought the situation humorous.

“ _Are they all really called ‘Negan’?_ ” Minas wondered. She was perplexed to say the least. The Negan in front of her turned back to face her once again, now grinning, yet his air of menace remained. She could feel the weight of his presence. 

“Baby…” he began, and she winced slightly at the endearment. He seemed to get a rise out of that and his eyes narrowed, his smile transforming into one of suggestion as he tongued the pointed tip of his pearly, exposed canine. “I wouldn’t want to hurt the likes of you. Not. At. All.”

“ _Loves the sound of his own voice_.”

“Hell, I probably wouldn’t even enjoy that.” His statement was dark enough to make Minas’ heart feel like it was beating out of her chest. He let it hang in the air a while. “All you have to do is cooperate. Now! I run a bit of an enterprise out of this area, and my God if it ain’t expanding ex-po-nentially! We are… the Saviors.” he smiled fondly at the name, which he no doubt invented. Negan continued his speech, undaunted by his audience’s lack of enthusiasm. “In order to fund said enterprise, we collect a tax from other communities in the area,” he explained “in exchange for our excellent services, of course!” Negan gestured around him to nothing in particular.

Minas shook her head at the revelation ever so slightly as to be imperceptible, internally aflame with disdain. “ _Raiders. Of course_.”

There had been one particularly nasty group of those scumbags just outside Boston, where Minas’ journey began. Their large numbers and ruthless ways meant that they could easily prey on other survivors, growing fat on the fruits of other’s hard work… fat _and_ careless. She had first learned to shoot by picking them off. The first people she had ever murdered. Until they wised up and ran her off that is, nearly killing her in the process. She’d come such a long way since then, and was more than reluctant to allow it to end here. “Well, _Negan_ ,” she said his name for the first time, not concealing her contempt, “I’m not from this area. Just passing through. You’ve taken my most valuable possession, so just be on your way.”

“Ohoho!” he exclaimed in response, forehead wrinkling with amusement. “Now that’s what I like to hear! You really do have some piss and vinegar in you.” He smiled wantonly. Then quickly added, “I’ve never seen you before. And trust me, _I’d remember_. So where’s the rest of your group?” he prodded. “Like I said,” she began to reply, now frustrated and looking him in the face defiantly, “I’m traveling. Don’t have a group. Don’t have a home. Haven’t seen another goddamn human being in weeks.” 

Negan frowned, not convinced. “You know what I _really_ fucking cannot stand for, Minas?” was the question he posed next. “People lying to me,” he threatened, pointing Lucille at her face. Once again, cold tendrils of fear engulfed her. This time it was Negan’s expression that did it, instead of the sight of Lucille. His face was a constantly evolving mask of intimidation: at times unreadable, and at others a transparent window into a mind of malice. Minas squeezed her eyes closed tightly, but they flew open again almost immediately when she imagined him winding up to take a swing at her. He wasn’t. “Well then…” he said darkly, “you won’t mind showing us where you’re laying that pretty little head of yours tonight.” The devious smile returned, never far from those lips.


End file.
